We are a small but welcoming group of Doctor Who enthusiasts that also share a love for Roleplay! We have members of all sorts of RP styles and levels of experience, so don't be shy if you're new! We all start somewhere!
As far as plot goes, it is fairly free reign, with the occasional structured event. Storylines range from Canon to Alternate Universe tellings and anywhere in between! Imagination is your only limitation with the possibilities!
So, go on and browse our canon list and see who's free to snatch up! OR, if you have an original character, we eagerly welcome those as well!
We can't wait to get to know you! Happy RPing!!
Updates
09/19/2017 Mandatory Activity Checks are now a thing of the past!!
No one enjoys doing RP posts when it feels like a chore. So we are doing away with it completely. There are still some posting requirements, but we hope this will make things feel much more relaxed. Be sure to review our rules to get all the details.
Events
No Events have been planned or scheduled, yet. Be sure to check back in. If you have an ideas for events, feel free to contact staff or leave a reply in our suggestion box.
The man laid on the road, covered in charred rags, his blond hair matted with dirt and what might be blood, his skin covered in suet and dirt. At first he is dead to the world, seemingly shut down from everything around him. His mind trying to repair itself from being rewritten during a time of agony and mass chaos. His body a reflection of his new self….and yet even then as he laid there the world around him moved and kept going like nothing happened. The dark of night hid his body just next to the road. How he got there? No one knew, not even he who only saw a large army exploding in his own fury as the last moment his eyes were open. He had changed at that moment, knowing his fury could no longer be what he lived by, nor the sins in which had caused the chaos that he had survived. Again he was the survivor, but this time he was more then that. He was no longer The Rebel…no, he could no longer be who he once was…..no he had to live by a clean slate….an new start.
These thoughts came to him as his mind seemed to cool down from the heat of its remake. His eyes slowly opening as a new self was born. No he wasn’t the Rebel anymore....he couldn’t be. The pain and ache of new joints and body took hold as he looked around and then tried to push himself up. He needed to get moving, he needed to fix himself up now…..He needed…..He needed a name…..
Isabella was driving from the hospital, just having visited a relative of hers. She had come to Europe for that small visit and had not been able to leave Europe for a few months now, due to work, and such problems...
Driving to her hotel, her car was doing something funny again so she pulled her car over and got out, feeling the light breeze on her face, briefly removing all her worries.
With a sigh, Isabella brushed back her hair and started pacing around the empty road, looking for something to do. She wasn't exactly worried about the car...It wasn't that important to get back to her hotel room and watch TV all night...
Isabella sat down and looked across the road. A lump of what looked like a person was just lying there. On the side of the road. She got up and inched closer to the thing. It was a person. "Excuse me, are you all right?
Mirajhane stared at out at the place the TARDIS had landed her. She was on Earth but the problem was she did not know where and to top it off she was by a road. "Well at least i can walk to the nearest town and find out where I am" she mutters to herself while walking away from her TARDIS, which had turned itself into a mini coop, and down the road. She pondered the reason her TARDIS dropped her here when she saw three figures in the distance. She walked further to see that there where what looked like a man and woman and a car on the side of the road. To her it looked like they were having car trouble until she saw the man was on the road. Mirjhane quickly walked over to the two people hoping that she could help with whatever was going on. "Excuse me is everything all right?" she asks while walking closer to them she paused when she got up closer to the man. He looked like he had been in a bad accident with his rags and his appearence. "Is he ok? do you need any help?" she asked the woman while pointing to the man.
There were people around him, new people he didn’t know. They were saying something about him being hurt, was he still hurt? Hadn’t his regeneration energy fixed all of that? He lifted his head for a moment and felt a strong itchy sensation in his throat; he coughed once revealing a large stream of golden gas escaping his throat. The aching in his body began to recede and he could feel himself feeling a bit normal. Was it done? Over with and now he could begin anew? Clean slate? All better? Wipe the White board……The White Board…….hmmmm.
The nameless man pushed himself up and looked around, seeing cars moving by him deep it what looked like a country road. Was he in America still? No wait…He looked at both women and pointed each one of them in turn and thought.
“One of you has a British accent….which one? I need to know so I can figure out where I am. Unless…..do one of you know where this is?” He moved with a new kind of energy, almost like he had never been hurt. Like the war had never happened, like he had never lost all those he had loved….well maybe not everyone. Of course those people were safe, he had made sure of it before…..
The cap obscured most of the girls face in the dim light, the street lights doing little to light up her face. If you could have seen her face, the mouth would have been set into a grim line and the eyes would have been glaring out at the world. 8-Ball was used to being left, it had happened before and by now she had come to care less and less about why and where they disappeared. In a way she expected it. People left her all the time to carry on their own lives and left her here in this place without even telling her. She had long ago learnt not to care.
This particular occasion has lasted longer than normal, but true to her mantra she didn't really care much any more. 8-Ball scuffed her battered shoes as she skulked along, hands shoved deep inside in her pockets and rucksack clinging to her back, kicking at the stones on the path and not really watching the direction she was walking in. She was on the way back to the lock-up, the dockside abandoned warehouse basement and containers that she lived in. Torchwood had offered her a rather nice pad but the girl had declined in favour of the derelict building. It reminded her of home, her old home, and part of her didn't want to let go of that in an anonymous city such as London.
Her wanderings brought her to the outskirts of town. She had become unknowingly sensitive to changes in the fabric of space and time due to being 'shot' by a dying TARDIS, and for some reason the way her feet had carried her felt like the right direction. The orange light had faded but she did not manage to miss it. The sight of it had taken her back to the day she had appeared in London, glowing just the same colour. Bad, she shouldn't be here.
Her feet didn't quite agree.
8-Ball sneaked closer, curious now, and stopped just out side the glow of a street-light, not even bothering with a greeting. She didn't feel like being social today.
"Yer in London mate. Land of the fabled free."
Her voice was dripping with sarcasm and she scowled out at the three people, wanting nothing more than to just walk away but knowing she couldn't without finding out what that orange light meant. She had never gotten an answer all that time ago, now might be her only chance.
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